When Fire Touched the Earth
by NickeltheRed
Summary: After Homecoming, Warren had come to realize that he wasn't the only at Sky High who could start a wildfire—and dare he say—it seemed as if Layla enjoyed to step aside and watch it burn. Post-film. Canon pairings, but the story really leans towards Warren/Layla.
1. I

**This piece consists of time-lapsing moments during the course of Layla and Warren's friendship, and how all those underlying tones of "there could be something more" come into play. **

**I own nothing. Characters belong to Disney.**

**Positive reviews or proper constructive criticism only please; and I know this overall scenario has been done before among additional W/L fans, but believe me, I really did work hard on it to make it more different and original. **

**Thanks for the reader's time!**

* * *

**Part I**

Two weeks after Homecoming, Warren gained a tendency of watching Will when they would hang out with Layla together. He'd catch himself searching for errors and clues, waiting to see if Stronghold could measure up to Layla's expectations. And his own expectations. Because Layla _had_ gone through a great deal of obstacles just to let her affection be heard, dragging in him with her. Therefore Warren did not want all that silly effort to be in vain. He figured it was partially his duty as a friend to make sure Will wouldn't slip once he upped status to the boyfriend role in Layla's life.

It couldn't be helped on Warren's end. Sometimes, it was automatic. And it wasn't as if he couldn't see that Will always had the best of intentions...but not unlike Steve Stronghold, Will's mind was rather flighty most days than none. Warren's mind however, was skilled at reading, remembering text, key words and phrases, and so he consumed information. Even if Will had forgotten the smallest thing like to call Layla when they'd stay after school practicing in the gym, or to wish her father a happy birthday several days later, Warren would mention it for him to do it. In his own subtle Warren-ish way, he helped Will to keep his dating record clean.

* * *

Relationships were complex, both good and bad. They all had their angles and their levels, beginnings and endings. Psychology, Sociology, and Anthropology all played their part in each human connection and link that was ever made...and along the way, Warren had suddenly discovered himself fastened inside of an entire network of people, which was new for him.

Now, he wouldn't really openly say which one was more or less significant to him. He could see how each of his new friends influenced him; like Will and his Ice Queen had made larger impacts on him, while Glow Worm, Popsicle, and Rodent Chic were simply good for a laugh every now and then.

But in reality, even though he rooted back to Will first, it was Layla who technically started all of the commotion the very night she asked him to sit down in her booth.

And the aftereffects lasted long _after_ their trickery during Homecoming too.

Because of that, Warren had come to realize that he wasn't the only one at Sky High who could ignite a wildfire—and dare he say—it seemed as if Layla enjoyed to step aside and watch it burn.

* * *

Gradually had the summer passed.

Will and Layla, followed by the rest of their sophomore class, hopped off the bus before they headed towards the school along with the fresh batch of freshmen.

"A new year." Will said while grabbing Layla's hand, leading her up the steps. "What's your first class?"

"Elemental Being Dynamics," Layla informed him. "You?"

"Muscle Force Analysis."

She scoffed.

Royal Pain's Homecoming disruption may had broken down the fences between Heroes and Sidekicks in the end, but oddly enough, that didn't necessarily stop Sky High from classifying its students in another way. The school staff used that summer to create a brand new curriculum, and apparently the Super System still didn't know how to function without _some_ labels.

Each student this year had a chance to prove themselves as a Hero and expose their powers large or small; though from now on the current and future generations were to be given Types:

She was of course placed in the _Environmental _course track. Students like Will and Larry were _Physicals _because strength was their main asset. Ethan and Magenta were clearly in the _Shape-shifting and Cloning_ track, considering they both can change to other forms, and Zack was grouped in the _Free Zone._ (Layla guessed this was Sky High's most polite term for _Miscellaneous_.)

Pecking her on the check at that point, Will drew away, aiming for the opposite hallway. "See you at lunch?"

She nodded, completely looking forward to it. "Yup."

When she finally turned into her own assigned classroom, Layla realized the Elemental course had a very small collection of students.

So far only six seats were occupied.

A second later after she arrived, a familiar voice soon greeted her from behind. "I thought you might be here too."

Layla spun to face him. "Hey, Senior!" He rolled his eyes and followed her down the first row until she picked a spot for them. "It's all part of the new curriculum, Warren."

"I gotta be honest with ya, Hippie, I think it was just easier when we were all called Heroes or Sidekicks. Now during my _last_ year, my power suddenly places me in a whole other group of classes."

"So the school can't let go of brands or titles, but at least it had the courtesy to expand its horizon this much. And we can take this one together."

"The four elements make up Nature, and they are all connected to each other to maintain the balance. What's more to learn?"

By becoming his friend, Layla had learned that Warren's interest in the Orient ran a bit deeper than just serving as busboy at the Paper Lantern. A as boy, his mother evidently read Classic Chinese myths and philosophies once preached by Buddhists monks to him. Their basement at home was eventually transformed into a big meditating space, and she made Warren practice with her every night before going to bed during elementary and middle school. It helped him control his flammable impulses for a while and it helped her exercise her pathokinesis ability as well. His mother could channel the positive emotions around her and could operate them any way to her content. But after his father's famous trail blew up, Warren was angry and had logically slipped out that habit.

"I think _that's_ what we are going to find out here," Layla countered with a light chuckle.

And during the first week (as Warren had anticipated) all their selected readings covered the basic materials which they both had already heard before.

They revised the mythology behind Gnomes, Sylphs, Salamanders, and Undines. They reviewed how the Elements charged and empowered those who worked them and how the four energy channels were laid out in compass-like structure. North to South, East to West; Earth to Fire, Air to Water. They restudied that there were four main separate forms of Element control—mental, bodily, emotional, and spiritual by using chi, ki, or chakra points for added power assistance.

But (as Layla had suggested) here's what they really _did_ learn besides that:

They learned it was just the _eight_ of them in Elemental Dynamics, out of the whole student body. (For the rest of the Environmental track had powers more associated to camouflage, land toxins, or altering temperature instead.)

Warren was honestly the only true Fire Type Sky High had enrolled in the past seven years, and the only Water Type they ever had was Moselle—the pretty blue-eyed girl who always sat in front wearing blue or white dresses and designer high heels. Right off the bat, she carried a high level of sass. Water Energies usually expressed healing, flexibility, or purification...but too much of that energy could produce everything Moselle was. An overwhelming force, like a rushing river with a melodramatic current. The second day of class, for example, Moselle had already made an enemy in Warren. According to her, Barron had attacked her mother right before his arrest.

_While the teacher was on his bathroom break, Moselle had strolled her way over to their desks with an overly-sweet smile, formally introducing herself to Warren. A little puzzled, Warren merely reached out to shake her lifted hand. But it was all a trick. Channeling water to her fingers, she instantly caused Warren's skin to steam fiercely in a trivial act of vengeance. Warren quickly retracted his hand with a bitter hiss between his teeth, watching her with so many questions blazing in his eyes. _

_"That's for my mother!" Moselle retorted furiously then, glaring back at both at them. And before she returned to her own reading partner, Moselle had the added nerve to even scold Layla openly for, "befriending someone with his reputation!"_

Needless to say, Layla and Moselle weren't big fans of each other after that either.

She and Warren also learned the set of triplets seated next to the window were Airs Types. Bethany and Selene Auric were both ballet dancers and they had clearly sided with Moselle by totally avoiding them if they could help it. Although their brother Skylar Auric, was more of a carefree spirit. He was a handsome boy with kind brown eyes and matching curly dark hair who wouldn't shun out anyone in the classroom on purpose. He merely flashed his prince-charming smile whenever he wished and floated from conversation to conversation day by day—quite literally going along with the winds of change. Layla would partner with him on occasion if Warren was late to class or just because Skylar truly was relatively more talkative and humorous during study time, whereas Warren wasn't _always_ in the mood for having long discussions that required more than one-word responses.

And lastly, they'd learned that besides Layla, there were two male Earth Elementals, Peter Farr and Jory Higgins. Both of their powers happened to connect more with stones, gravel, minerals, and the natural metals found within the earth over the actual flora aspect as hers did. And for some unknown reason, they too, didn't care to talk to her much (and they were the ones who didn't really seem to care about who Warren was in the least.)

The boys just "cliqued" together and left her out of their Earth power exercises.

That part bugged Warren. Peter and Jory weren't acting like anything but common bullies towards her.

Some time later, Layla looked particularly dejected one morning as he arrived to class, and he assumed the worst. "Really? They _still_ won't talk to you?"

"I just don't understand them." She sighed as he seated himself in the desk behind hers. "I mean, I've had people dislike me before...people like Penny and Gwen, but those boys treat me like I have the Black Plague."

Warren glanced over at Peter and Jory exchanging notes far across the room. "...Huh. I think they might be jealous."

Layla rose her brow at the idea. "Of what? You?" Translation: _They have to know you're not my boyfriend or anything, right?_

"No, no," Warren shook his head, muttering, "I mean of you, your power. They're probably intimidated by you because female Earth Types are known to be stronger. And I am actually paraphrasing what the textbook said here."

Tapping her chin, Layla was still uncertain. "You think? Doesn't that sound sorta lame, though? And a bit cliché?"

"Well, we don't call the planet _Father_ Earth, now do we?"

* * *

It was a not a secret that natural redheads were born with exceedingly sensitive skin. In the sun they never tanned, instead they freckled more and burned quickly.

And every time Layla would take a break from her notes to ask Will for his opinion, flexing her hand, tapping her pen against the paper—Warren could see that old little burn mark, curving on the edge of her palm. The first time he just happened to spot it during their study groups, he never really verbalized anything about it. Although Warren had immediately known it was his doing.

_"Hey there, Cutie..."_

That _one line_ had cost her a _scar_ for years to come.

So when he did see it at first, there had been a fleeting sense of guilt within him and a building desire to apologize for his impulsiveness that day...but since Layla hardly seemed to dwell on it, or wasn't ever angry about it afterwards at all, Warren merely let the mistake slide its way into the past behind them.

Layla also once told him that, _"Friends are the people who leave the most distinctive marks on you."_

And Warren supposed, in a slightly twisted way, she was right.

Layla paused again to tap her pen against her notebook, angling her hand towards him. Warren's eyes briefly locked on the scar, while thinking, _how ironic._

He certainly _had_ left his mark.

* * *

Classes were cancelled for the day as the student body and staff factuality planned to attend a memorial service for a fellow Hero recently K.I.A.

Afterwards, when the topic just happened to surface between them, Warren mentioned how he wished to be cremated. So he could rise from the ashes within death and such. It was a perfectly symbolic choice for him, but really not that surprising.

In turn, Layla said that she definitely wanted to be buried. That way, she could remain one with the earth.

It made sense to Warren.

* * *

Layla breathed in, modestly proud of herself as she concluded another one of her childhood stories: "And with my mother's help, my petition revolving around Earth Day Awareness was a success even in neighboring cities. I was the youngest student to ever to initiate a movement like that and have everything turn out for the better."

Warren scoffed. He regretted trying to make small talk with her now as they waited for Will after school to finish a test. Layla could be all mouth when she wanted to be and he should've known better than to think she wouldn't have much to say in the first place. "Is there anything you can't do, Hippie?"

"Yes, there is actually," Layla responded matter-of-factly. "I can't grow lemons. Ever. I still don't know why."

"Hm."

* * *

Whenever Layla pulled Warren into something, there would be mischief. She never meant any real harm of course...but whether she was bored, or curious for certain information, or just plain determined to help Will or another friend in need, Warren somehow always found himself standing in the aftermath of her ridiculous schemes-gone-awry, having the adults scold them and laugh at them at the same time by the end of it all.

In fact, they had gotten themselves wrapped up into so much monkey business long since Homecoming that they'd become _known_ for it! Will teased them every once and while, saying they were _partners in mock-crime_. Zach gained a similar habit of calling them _Lucy and Ethelrren, _and Principle Powers herself had even come to believe that Warren and Layla had turned into lighter, more comical counterparts to Speed and Lash.

Meanwhile Warren just kept promising himself that it's the _last_ time. Though Layla came back for more eventually, seeking out his assistance, and he's pulled into something else again, and again, and again, and again.

* * *

The brooding look on Warren that precise morning was anything but pleased. "I swear, Hippie, some days you are just like those prickly things that stick to you like Velcro when you go hiking."

Layla still smiled at him though, knowing he was the kind of friend who told the bad things right to her face, and then saved the good things to say behind her back.

* * *

Out of the other five, Layla clearly had proven herself to be the most...unpredictable from the start. And just when Warren thought she couldn't possibly do anything more to surprise him now that they've been friends...he was actually _surprised_ to see how wrong he was.

There had been days when he could not believe he was speaking to the same Layla he had found moping around the Paper Lantern a year ago. Those were the days when Warren had to remind himself that Layla was definitely not one to be underestimated.

_"So...this morning, my dear darling boyfriend comes up with this brilliant idea that over Winter Break next month, we all go rent a cabin way up north and go snow skiing! And now the rest of them seem pretty excited about it." Layla's tone was humorous when she said this, but bitterly so. _

_Warren caught onto the sarcasm quickly. Layla shared his distaste for the lingering cold in the air. The more snow that covered the land, the more stressed out she became. Her entire personality went into hibernation, along with everything else in the earth. Evidently, Layla of all people didn't have that much of a holiday spirit. Her family didn't really celebrate the Holidays anyway and frankly she was proud of that, apart from the public's Christmas publicity was getting more overwhelming each following season. _

_If anything, Layla's wintery tradition was lecturing everyone else who tried to force Christmas down her throat that Christians had essentially borrowed every other idea from the Pagan celebration Yuletide; therefore, Christmas was plagiarized and too unoriginal for her._

_Apparently Will and the others were overlooking her feelings again._

_Warren let out a snort. "And what did you say?"_

_She shrugged, half-jokingly yet. "Oh, I told them we could even spilt up in two main groups. They can all to go snow skiing up north, meanwhile, Warren and I will be going hiking in Fiji."_

_That time, he didn't know whether to smile in amusement or be worried about plane ticket costs. _

...And despite the fact that she claimed to be a pacifist mostly, Layla still had a temper. Sure, it took something very personal and very serious for Layla to give into all those negative emotions—but when it did happen—her wrath was unleashed. For Warren personally knew Layla's power did not stop at just leaves and flowers. Her Element was wider than that.

Warren could still recall the afternoon when they were sitting outside on a shockingly warm February day and Layla mentioned that if she ever became a known Supervillian by chance, her name would be _Nature's Scorn. _He remembered feeling a little taken aback by this comment too, and by how calm her voice was speaking these things while just peeling the skin of the orange that was in her hands at the time.

_"I'd probably make a pretty decent villain, too," she'd added. "'Cause if you think about it, there's one thing you can't beat. And it's Nature. People can gather as many police and Heroes as they want...but that really doesn't stop earthquakes, sinkholes, mudslides, exploding hot springs, sandstorms, and overgrown jungles..."_

Warren also remembered how careful he was when he asked if _she_ actually could make all those things happen. He always did sense there had to be more of a reason to why she avoided using her powers until it was absolute necessary.

_"Nature always has two forms. Order and Chaos," was her answer, glancing at the melting snow beneath their feet. "I choose Order."_

Then he had moved on to asking her why she even thought about the possibility of becoming Nature's Scorn? Layla merely cracked a silly smile to lighten his concern in return, stating she was just really bored one weekend and her mind happened to wander.

He shrugged it off as usual, even though a small part of him had grown more respect for her honesty that day, not to mention her creativity. As docile as she really was around them, Nature's Scorn suited her well in its own way.

Yet, that conversation was nothing compared to the night when Layla and Will apparently had their "first big fight" as a real couple:

_It was late and she had stomped right past him the moment he opened the door, saying how Will was so unbelievable! Warren knew his mother was already asleep at that time, so he tried to direct the vexed hippie to the smaller living room on the opposite side of the house. He hardly had the chance to pester her about finding someone else to be her personal-go-to-problem-solver for once. Because she'd obviously stolen center-stage and Warren figured right away that he wasn't going to be able to get one word in edgewise._

_He'd seen her pout before, true, and he had seen her cry. But this was the first time Warren had ever seen her anger pushed to the point of pacing and ranting until the potted plants around the house came to life, fueled by her adrenaline. The roots grew into dark thorny vines that snaked up across the tile and the walls. The foundation under their feet had begun to quiver a little. Weeds and clumps of dry dirt started to leak in through the windowsills. Warren had even heard a faint cracking noise underneath the staircase nearby as dust and plaster started to flake off the ceiling, causing his current streak of annoyance to be replaced with actual nervousness. For he had realized in that one instant, he was standing alone in mercy of her Element._

_And flaming up wouldn't solve anything if an earthquake-like event was breaking down the framework completely, sending the whole house into a wreck._

_"Whoa, whoa, hey." He had acted on pure instinct, finally moving forward to catch her by the elbows. "Layla. Layla, look at me. Just take a breath, just breathe."_

_Keeping eye contact, Layla refocused on her control and did as she was told. With a few more deep breaths, she had coaxed the plants back into their original state, briefly apologizing for the mess._

_"...C'mon I'll walk you home, okay?"_

Needless to say from then on, Warren had began to understand the potential behind Layla's _Nature's Scorn_ theory. No one at Sky High gave her power enough credit.

Sweetheart Hippie Child? That's just what they saw on the surface. Layla had layers.

Then time passed since the fight and things for the group returned to normal. Until Layla's mother had unexpectedly landed herself in the Heroes' Medical Ward during a hazardous mission in the Amazon. Her state was fairly critical and even with Super Healers tending to her, the chances of a full recovery still were claimed only so-so.

For days, Layla grew very mellow. Her typical cheery demeanor went as still as the leaves on a windless morn. She missed classes here and there for a while and visited the Paper Lantern less and less.

And since Will was forever training to officially take part in the Stronghold Three every weekend, Zach and Warren were growing quite accustomed to receiving texts from Will, asking him if they were willing to check in on Layla for him.

So on one particular foggy Sunday morning, when he was off work, it was Warren's turn. He stopped by Layla's home again after hearing that Layla had been neglecting her phone calls from everyone for two nights in a row. When he knocked, there was no answer but there was a light on inside. He knew that meant she was in there. Where else would she go that morning?

Warren had simply walked in and he found her sitting alone under the window of the hearth room right off the kitchen. She was wearing nothing but grey leggings, a white tank top underneath a loose brown cardigan. They were without a doubt the blandest colors he'd ever seen on her.

Her hair was also somewhat tangled and flowed flat down her chest, framing the blank expression she bore. Her eyes looked dull and tired.

She had been taking her mother's accident pretty hard. That much was understandable. The one thing that really had thrown him through a loop though, was all the vases of empty soil placed in a semi-circle on the floor before her.

"Hey," he greeted softly, not receiving any sort of hello back from her. "Where's your dad?"

"Back at work, trying to catch up on stuff. But he mostly stays at the Ward now anyways. He sent me home because he doesn't want me missing any more school."

"Hm. Makes sense." He had approached her at that point, slowly settling himself next to her, careful not to disturb the vases.

Her eyes sharply lifted to meet his as he did so. "What are you doing here anyway?"

Even her tone was off. In fact, she sounded a bit offended by his arrival. He couldn't help staring back at her for a second, feeling the tables were turning on him. She could probably tell that it was another one of their "pity visits" Will must have organized over the phone, and that irritated her.

He, however, naturally tried to cover up the mild wave of guilt with a shrug and improvised an excuse. "I haven't seen you at work lately. I gotta admit...it's getting rather boring over there without you pestering me during my shifts every three minutes."

Layla bit back a tiny smile, but overall she still looked skeptical and peeved. "Well, sorry, I haven't been in a pestering mood lately."

He shrugged again. "It's fine."

An awkward silence caught up to them and they sat there for a good minute and a half before Warren motioned to the vases of soil. "So, what's up with all of this?"

Layla ran a hand through her hair. "...Ever since I left the hospital the last time, I've been having a problem with my power."

Hearing this, Warren immediately felt his concern for her rise to a different level. "What do you mean?"

"This."

And with that response, she turned her head, refocusing on the vases and he watched as a single flower slowly began to blossom in each one.

They all seemed to be the same type of flower—really vibrant in color and exotic looking—but classifying plants were his not expertise. The last one Layla was staring at was a mixture of purple and blue with coral-pink barbs protruding from its core. "I can only grow things like these now," she muttered.

"They're beautiful," he'd whispered. His words were sincere, although, Warren wasn't sure if he said them to make her feel better about her skills or because he simply couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Yes," Layla agreed, but her jaw had hardened with contempt. "And they're deadly to the touch."

The following couple weeks or so were just as rough for Layla before she finally learned to laugh again and regain full power control.

And the day the Healers had called to tell her and father that beyond all odds, her mother was showing signs of significant improvement after she pulled through her mild coma.

Lady Slippers and tiger lilies had bloomed across the city that afternoon day from one end to the other, in spite of them being out of season.

* * *

The Spring Equinox was approaching quickly.

Warren, with his fists shoved in his pockets, trailed feet behind Stronghold and Glow Worm aisle after aisle of the entertainment store as he listened to the boys babble on about what to buy.

The Strongholds were in the process of throwing Layla a birthday party at their house that coming weekend, and while that portion was easy enough, it didn't take long for Will to start panicking over finding the most impeccable gift to give to her.

Will had his mother to blame.

It needed to be perfect for _Layla_, she'd advised him, being _The Boyfriend_ now meant that his choice had to equal the importance of the title.

So in a flustered flurry, he roped in his closet friends that night to help him succeed.

Will finally ran his fingers through his hair for the ninth time in the last twenty minutes. Everything he'd picked out thus far had been placed back on the shelf. "I've known her since we were five! Why is this so hard all of the sudden?"

"C'mon man," Zach said, clapping a hand over Will's shoulder. "I'm sure Layla doesn't even _care_ what you get her. You still know her better than any of us."

Will shook his head. "She'll care. That much I do know. I know she isn't that materialistic, but she'll care about how much thought I put into it."

"Then just fly her to Italy for a day."

"She doesn't really like me showing off like that, remember?"

"Oh. What about buying her a new movie?"

"Layla has weird tastes in movies. She likes the ones that have subtitles and are really artistic. I can't keep up with all of them."

Warren snorted, finally making some input. "Too cultured for you, Stronghold?"

"Hey, you try watching _House of Flying Daggers_ or _Pan's Labyrinth_ all the way through."

"I have, and they're both decent movies."

Will rolled his eyes. "Okay, smart guy, what did you get her then?"

Warren shrugged, having no reason to feel paranoid like Will did. "Nothing yet."

Zach proudly waved their remarks off. "Pfft. You two are just clueless."

Warren shot back a challenging look. "Yeah? What did you get her?"

"I got smart. I asked Magenta for a hint, and if I have to remind you, she has the direct hotline to the girl talk. So with everything I gathered, I ended up getting Layla this fancy box filled with all these different kind of herbal teas in it."

Will seemed respectfully impressed by this tactic.

"Herbal tea?" Warren on other hand, echoed Zach's answer with a dark mocking tone. "She doesn't drink herbal tea."

Momentarily, Zach's face paled with embarrassment. "But tea is basically the _only_ thing I've see that girl drink outside of the lunchroom!"

"Yes, but the hippie actually prefers Green Teas and Oolong Teas over than anything else."

"Oh man."

A small pout crept over the Glow Worm's face, making Will growl under his breath in added frustration. If a casual friend like Zach already made a mistake, what chance did _he_ have as Layla's first love? "I'm sorry, Zach. But back to me for now, okay?"

Sighing, Zach tossed out another random suggestion, "A big teddy bear?"

"She's not twelve." Warren mumbled.

"A new bottle of her perfume? You always say Layla smells nice, Will."

"That's just Layla, not a perfume," Will corrected him.

"She uses flower extract for stuff like that," Warren threw on.

"Hmmm..." And then the best idea it hit him, and Zach suddenly threw his arms out up in victory. "JEWELRY!"

Will shushed him, and Warren had to jump closer to block out the light that was beginning to pulse around Zach. "Okay, okay. Power down, they have cameras here!"

Later on, on the day of the party, Warren had texted Will he'd be running late after his recent shift.

For the time being, the group gathered around Layla's assigned chair in the dining room, picking at their cake as Layla was eventually down to Will's present last. It happened to be a narrow black box under the shiny blue wrapping paper, and with much adoration and anticipation, Layla opened it carefully to find a magnificent silver bracelet, looking like curling tree branches. The little green charms handing off it were its leaves.

She looked up to meet his hopeful gaze next to her.

"Too much?" he asked sheepishly.

Layla beamed back at him and shook her head. "No, I think it's pretty. Thank you."

Will laughed when she let him help her try it on. "Good...Zach helped by the way."

"Well in that case, thank you too, Zach. You've done well."

Zach gave her a relieved, "Anytime!"

Josie seated on Layla's other side, patted her hand before standing up. "Who needs more cake and drinks?"

The kids all raised the hands without question, causing the adults to laugh together.

"Let me help." Layla offered while the crowd urged Will and Steve to retell another triumphant story they've had that week.

"Please, Layla, it's your party. It's okay with me if you want to stay and talk," Josie comforted, entering the kitchen.

But Layla, being Layla, would rather remain polite for the occasion. "It's the least I can do for everything you've done for me today."

They were just sliding the last couple slices onto their used dessert plates when the side door clicked open, and in strolled Warren.

"Hey," he said, a little awkwardly as soon as he noticed Layla and Josie Stronghold actually standing right there.

Even though Will called him a best friend, Warren still was stuck in the habit of avoiding speaking to Jetstream and the Commander if he could help it. It was just too uncomfortable for him yet. Forgiving them was one hurdle he had to face, but engaging in friendly conversation and pretending their families didn't have a shadowy history was still another issue.

"Warren, you made it! Why didn't you just use the front door?" Layla however, lit up again as she moved towards him, not caring that Josie frowned a little, looking more guarded by his sudden presence.

"I thought it'd better to make a quieter entrance so I wouldn't interrupt anything."

Layla lightheartedly tapped him on the chest. "You're not, don't worry. We're all having cake now, that's it."

Then Warren lifted the item clutched his hand and dangled it right in front of her eyes. "Happy Birthday, Hippie."

It was a small scarlet tie-pouch threaded together at the top with golden strings.

Layla scoffed through another smile and accepted it. Once the pouch's mouth was pried apart Layla used two fingers to pull out the long ornament waiting inside.

Personally to Josie, it looked like nothing more than a fancy red and yellow pillow tassel, but Layla seemed to understand its significance more.

"A Chinese Knot Charm," Layla recited cheerfully. "They're used for good luck, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, Warren, I gotta say today's been pretty lucky already without it." She flashed him the new bracelet around her wrist for a playful dramatic effect.

Peace smirked at her and threatened to grab the tassel. "Hmm, I'll just take it back then."

But Layla drew her gift further away, grinning wider. "No, no, don't! Come on, I love it, it's perfect. Thank you."

Warren stalled for a mere instant, but he still nodded back at her in sheer consideration.

And Josie cleared her throat a seconds later, resulting in both of them turning her way. "We should probably bring the cake back in alright, you two?"

* * *

When the clouds parted, a mass of light came flooding back through the open cafeteria windows, hitting their lunch table at the perfect angle just as Layla decided to pull the band free from her hair. Coming down from their tightly-wrapped up bonds, her red strands were left to form a thick mane of curls, glowing almost a golden color under the sun. And it wasn't long before a warm breeze followed, causing those curls to go wild.

Warren, positioned across from her at that precise timing, stared at her for a second longer than he intended to. Or should have, considering who she was.

But if there was one physical trait Warren was allowed to find attractive on Layla, it had always been her hair mostly.

She had hair like fire.

* * *

"Want to join us tonight? Will wanted to make sure you weren't feeling left out."

"I don't think so, not this time. It sounds more like a couple thing."

"Why not ask your pretty Ice Queen, Jenna, to come with usthen?"

"Hippie," he gruffed out, "she graduated last year. We danced once at Homecoming and went on a few dates after that, but it doesn't automatically make us permeate for life."

"You seemed to have a good time with her, though."

"And I _did_ have a good time with her," he stressed, closing his book. "But I knew it wasn't meant to last fulltime."

"But I still can't see why," she shook her head.

Before stomping away he added sternly, "I got two words for you: Robert Frost."

* * *

Even if Warren's mother was also alienated by the Super Community after her husband's arrest, she was at always peace when her son started to have company over during her early retirement, whether it be the Stronghold boy, or before that, the Ice Girl.

Although, she had grown individually fond of Layla within a matter of heartbeats. That girl was one of a kind—spunky, loud, modest, highly opinionated but nonjudgmental all wrapped into one. Like a spirited Wood Nymph. Of course his mother was also glad that Will and Layla came with a whole package of other friends for Warren to spend more time with. But in the end of every visit, the little Daughter of the Earth stood out to her the most.

Like her, Layla was never afraid to take that one extra step with Warren—to challenge him, to encourage him—while the others still refrained from pushing their luck too far.

She liked how Warren was totally free around his fellow Elemental; Layla made a point to entirely strip him of public assumptions and beliefs, clawing her way through all the defenses until Warren had nothing left to show her but himself.

_Just like Barron._

Her motherly heart actually warmed at the thought.

Because regardless of the gossip, Barron hadn't been the same man the world saw him as living with her behind closed doors either.

* * *

Warren circled back to her usual booth and offered her another water. "So why are you riding solo tonight, exactly?"

"After we were done with our homework tonight, Mr. Stronghold wanted to take the boys out to that new steakhouse restaurant down the block." She flashed him an understanding smile, handing him her split fortune cookie. "Read it to me?"

"Can't you read?"

Laughing, she pushed at his arm. "C'mon, you always do it."

Huffing, Warren caved. He tossed his rag over his shoulder and slid the slip of paper out from its shell. "Hippie," he began firmly, like he was preparing to give her a professional speech. "_A ship in a harbor is safe, but that is not why ships are built_."

Layla's smile returned as her head tipped to the side thoughtfully. "...So I need to go sailing?"

He rolled his eyes at her joke. "I think it implies that because you're entirely comfortable with something and it's really familiar to you...doesn't mean you shouldn't try to explore the sea of other opportunities laid out right in front of you."

* * *

"What are you doing?"

"Listening," she said softly, bathed in the shadow of the rustling leaves overhead.

"It's a tree, Layla." he remarked, tone steady and cynical.

Her eyes snapped opened to glance back at him and then she kissed her fingertips against the bark ever so gently. "They have their voices too, you know." She always needed to have the last say. "And they have wisdom."

* * *

Summer was nearly upon them once again, so it was time for Warren to finally graduate from Sky High.

He was choosing to go to an university before any real Heroic Career yet. College was just as important to him.

And at his party, Layla was half-embarrassed by the small tears forming in her eyes, partly because she wanted laugh with him as well.

* * *

Nearly two years later, he was still slipping his cell out of his jean pocket at the sound of her ringtone. "Hello?"

_"Are you busy?"_

"Nah, I just got out of meeting with one of my professors. What's up?"

_"Will and I just broke up this morning."_

"Oh, man. Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can."

* * *

Lying flat on his back, Warren first stirred when his ears picked up distant chatter from somewhere down the corridor. Sighing deeply, he rubbed his forehead to rid himself of the fatigue and realized he was still his dorm room. The outfit from last night's party was still perfectly intact, while the rest of it was steadily coming back to him.

He blinked and looked aside to find Layla in his bed with him, curled on her side, with her wrist innocently resting over his chest. The room vaguely smelt like the smoke from an old campfire inside a meadow.

He recalled how they went to the party being held in the West Hall the night before. Each of them had a wine cooler, played a few rounds of pool, politely small-talked with some of the other students, but then Layla'd had enough of the wild commotion. So had he; so they ended up back in his small apartment on campus and casually continued talking like they always did.

_ "The second breakup was much worse." she told him honestly, after he tossed her a cereal health bar from his desk drawer. "This time around Will and I only lasted three months, even though we started just as strong as before. And I think that what sucks the most...it's our beginnings that are happy, not our endings."_

That had been the main reason why she had come over in the first place. She merely wanted some space from Maxville, if it was just for the weekend.

* * *

College is behind him, but barely so. He's a fresh graduate, and he is still one of her best friends. And he still counts her as one in return.

Half the time they are a professionals now, a team in the public eye, a recognized duo taking on tasks commissioned by the government and they're called **Daughter Nature and Pyromus **in the newspaper headlines. They do well together, mainly because neither of them really goes out of their way to work with someone else on the Heroic Force. It is clear to bystanders that they have a trustworthy system established while on the job and they aren't about to throw it away anytime soon.

But as plain Warren and Layla, they are currently roommates. She's trying to finish her last year of college herself and he's currently managing the local art and music studio on the side.

Warren has moved of his old apartment on campus, looking for something ideally more real and permanent—and Layla who's simply been splitting a condo with Will and Larry, knew she couldn't be rooming with her "ex" forever. So, eventually, this has led them both of them on deciding to share a small Victorian fixer-upper on the edge of the suburbs that no else wanted (according to Josie's records). The house is not overly suspicious or too noticeable, so it's been a pretty decent cover-up. Their driveway is long and sandy, and the backyard is basically nothing but a big pasture that stretches out to a wider strip of forestland. It's perfect for Layla to stay attuned with wildlife here, while the large pole shed sitting aside the house has steal-plated interior walls where Warren is free to play target practice or do any auto work. And to top it all off, Zach, Magenta, and Ethan have recently pulled their money together to buy the empty house a mile down the road from them. Will still comes by on a consistent basis too, to remain civil. He and Layla are lingering in that weird after-process of trying to maintain the first part of their childhood friendship they hopefully have left over.

But, frankly Warren and Layla's own living situation is not always that perfect either.

...Yes, most days, they still function under the same sense of friendly familiarity. Not to mention that every now and then they still get wrapped into little cliché shenanigans around town one would probably expect to see on a sitcom like _Friends _or _Three's Company_.

On Tuesday afternoon, while helping Layla to paint the upstairs bathroom a gentle leaf green color, Magenta has even informed her how the older people in town have mocked them a bit for it, saying that she and Warren seem to have one of those silly more-than-friends-but-less-than-lovers relationships.

And although Layla never fully agrees to that assumption—she can't really deny that her and Warren _aren't_ as professional when they're not wearing their uniforms. Compared to their Heroic career, their domestic life isn't so apt, strict, and organized, and it isn't so step-by-step. No, at home, when the masks come off, they return to common people prone to having regular humanistic habits and emotion. Above all else, the constant proximity versus hanging out every other week or whatever, _does_ put their friendship to the test in different ways than ever before.

With her power representing Creation and his Destruction, their bond can go into overdrive. Whenever this happens, tensions will rise around the house, stress will add up, and boundaries may be crossed. The harmony and the innocence alike fly out the window, and she and Warren will be left to face the unadulterated seriousness forming in their lives. Layla knows this...and even Magenta would know, because it's happened...several times in fact. The rest of the gang usually try to avoid getting stuck between them when those dark hours do come to pass.

On their dicey days Layla and Warren will bicker like children on the playground and in time they become a cycling force that is raveling undone—as sometimes—the Fire Element can get too impulsive and too greedy, and it will start devouring the paths the Earth had laid out for itself, leaving little to nothing to hold onto by the end...

Thus far, Warren has kicked a chair into the wall, has slammed his bedroom door in her face, has broken a plate at her feet before storming out of the kitchen, has set her curtains on fire all in outbursts of rage, and he's once directly yelled at her when he thought she was getting too deep in the privacy of his family's history. Otherwise—he can be a sneaky flame that spreads forth quietly, going undetected until it's too late for Layla to react and smother it out...for Warren may manipulate her ever so slightly to get his way. He has even scared off a couple of her potential dates already behind her back because _he_ doesn't deem them worthy of _her_ time. One example: her second real boyfriend, Spencer Brooks, a classmate of hers. Similar to dating Will, their relationship itself was again rather short-lived…but mainly _because_ of what Warren did.

Apparently, without her hearing it for herself, Spencer was becoming more irked and disappointed in her choice for roommates. Warren's mentioned that Spencer made some comment about him possibly _"being a bad influence on Layla_."

Therefore, Warren deliberately sabotaged their dinner in some form of payback or defiance.

_She openly began laughing at one of Spenser's witty jokes, which she found genuinely funny. _

_Spencer smiled back, his blue eyes shining under the light overhead. _

_Before then, she would've pictured herself agreeing to go out with the decently toned blonde she had bumped into on a beach one day after classes—but she was inwardly glad that she had. Spencer was something new for a change. At first, he came off haughty and immature on campus, but he as soon as he became interested in her, and actually tried to woo her, she couldn't help getting a little more intrigued herself. In reality, he had a personality unlike all the boys she currently knew. Whereas Will, Zach, and Ethan were incredibly good at heart, being the awkwardly adorable underdogs slowly realizing their true potential, Spencer constantly seemed sure of himself; totally charming and sociable, and was naturally athletic when playing volleyball or going surfing._

_"Hey there, Hippie. What's hangin'?" Warren's voice had greeted them from the side of their booth. _

_She looked up suddenly, taken by surprise his visit, especially since he she told him she was supposed to be going out on a two-month anniversary date with Spencer. Warren had taken a couple girls out occasionally too, sure, and she never bothered them in the middle of anything like this! _

_But before she could say anything, Warren was sliding in next to her, casually slinging an arm around her neck like kindergarten pals would do posing for a picture, and stole a bite of her salad._

_It was very unlike Warren to behave like this in particular. In the back of her mind, she sensed he had to be pretending for some reason. Like he had a point to prove, his own score to settle. Because no one could play with fire and get away with it. _

_"Warren, what are you doing here?" she muttered, inclining her head closer to his while Spencer just looked purely insulted by the intrusion..._

Understandably, that memory is only a mere fraction of the drama that sparked between all of them that night.

Layla figures it'd be quite unlikely for Warren to ever admit it out loud that his friendly protectiveness over her has sporadically inched over the line to possessiveness.

On other bad days—to be fair—the Earth Element is no better. It's always so _vibrant_, so motivating and lively that it has its own special way of attracting the other three elements to it, like a siren, making them _revolve_ around it and it'll just _keep_ _growing_ from there. The Earth wants to be treasured and noted for its majesty. It wants to embrace everything in return, to gain knowledge of everything. It wants _to be_ everywhere, to flourish, to extend, to dominate, and tower over all, to be rooted into every single corner. And at times, it gets carried away and those little annoying weeds will show up in the most inconvenient places, and no matter how many times they are plucked or trampled on, they come back again almost out of pure spite.

Layla has proudly sunk his motorcycle halfway down into a mud hole one rainy morning after one of their arguments, and she has let fresh moss grow all over the chords of his favorite guitar, making it unplayable. That's all it takes on their very bad days. One heated dispute, and she may willingly insult his clothes, his character, his hobbies, or she'll say a cutting remark about him (on purpose) right in front of any girl who tries to flirt with him at the supermarket if she's in earshot...she just wants to see Warren _cringe_ under the weight of her own words. On those days, she uses these actions to remind him how well they really do know each other, and so, she knows _what_ can hurt him most. But when she is downright _vexed_ with him, she'll do what she can to make him feel ashamed of himself because even the prettiest roses shouldn't be tampered with when they have too many thorns on them that day.

The undoubtedly _worst_ day they've had however, has been when she was having lunch at the other house a couple weeks ago:

_Their regular chitchat sooner or later involved Will explaining Larry had actually moved out recently and so he had the condo all to himself now; and that he'd also met someone new during a recent mission. Her name was Natalie McKay and she was a Citizen that he happened to save from a van rolling down the street. And judging by her picture Will had of her on his phone, the girl—Natalie—looked nice enough. Pink sweater, white cotton summer dress underneath trimmed with yellow lace, long sleek black hair, doe-brown eyes, and a honey-sweet grin._

_Out of sheer politeness, Layla held her tongue and didn't mention how Natalie's appearance somewhat resembled Gwen Greyson's. Layla knew they weren't the same girl. Besides, the chances of history repeating itself to that degree was paranoid thinking. _

_But those memories of rejection were resurfacing and Layla found herself starting to surrender to that old heartache again (fast) as Will finished up his innocent confession by stating he and Natalie were going on their seventh official date over the weekend._

_Layla slipped out an excuse as soon as she could and powerwalked home, waiting for Warren to get home that evening. _

_The next series of hours being alone with all her own thoughts, though, was not exactly easy. _

_When Warren did come home, he found her pacing. Grass was poking right through the floor boards. He sighed and asked her what happened. She recapped everything for him, and said that her original feelings for Will were switching back on again. That...she may had never been really over him to begin with. _

_By morning and with no sleep, she had decided._

_She ran an excited hand through her hair and exhaled, staring at Warren who now sat himself at the kitchen table, watching her in return. "Warren, I—I think I need to let him know what I'm feeling."_

_Bemused, Warren let go of his coffee mug and stood up, grunting at her. "Whoa, wait, hang on. Are you insane?" He honestly couldn't bring himself to agree with the idea. Not this time._

_And since Warren did play a large part in their romantic relationship before, supporting her to come clean, his sudden skepticism derailed her sense of hope. "I don't get it. Why are you against this? Shouldn't I say something?"_

_"Look, Hippie," he said, hands lowering onto her shoulders, "...it's a different situation. It's a different time with different factors. You can't just relapse with him because...you feel alone, or whatever. As his friend—and yours—don't get sucked back into this. For both of your sakes. You've dated him a couple times now and it has never worked out."_

_She replied by telling him it wasn't a relapse. It was real and he couldn't imagine what she was feeling. Will was her first real love, and maybe the third time could be charm._

_With that, Warren had to literally follow her outside and chase her down the porch, physically standing in her way across the lawn. _

_She shoved him aside each time he stepped closer to her again, still trying to reason with her._

_"Friends don't do this to each other, Warren!" she spat._

_"You're smarter than this!" he barked back at her. "Am I supposed to wait around till you hurt yourself again? You two were a good couple, no one can deny that...but you and Stronghold are just better at being best friends."_

_Pretty soon they went back and forth, to and fro, one more retort led to another even more spiteful than the last. Against Layla's wishes, small tears of frustration began to stream down her face._

_Then, she told Warren she hated him. _

_His eyes softened by that point, but that still didn't make him back off._

_Layla collapsed then under the pain of reality and truth, and Warren knelt with her in his attempt to catch her, his arms caging her in._

_Clutching at his t-shirt, she let out a short scream of grief and rage, which had caused the ground to shake hard enough for a small crevice in the earth to literally slit apart in front of them. _

...The main upside to all this, though, is that even if they stumble into bad days quickly and without that much effort, she and Warren somehow manage to make up just as quickly and effortlessly.

Everyone else could just tell they naturally click on a level that only kindred spirits can.

The more the Earth is willing to provide and nurture, the further the Fire can burn brighter and healthier. And as long as the Fire burns out the old sickly things and anything else invasive, a fresh new beginning can grow from its cinders.


	2. II

**I decided to add an update to this story, obviously. So, enjoy. And thank you to my lovely followers and reviewers thus far. **

* * *

**Part II**

Warren's already dressed in his oldest jeans and tattered black t-shirt and his hands are spotted with grease when Layla comes down the stairs late this morning. Aiming for the kitchen table, she greets him with a relatively serious question, "Hey, can we talk...roommate to roommate?"

Warren dries his hands over the sink, pours his second cup of coffee and follows her over. "What's on your mind?"

Half-smiling, Layla pushes her wild pillow-hair behind her ear as he twists his chair towards her. "I think I should move out. Get my own place. And before I decide to do that, I need to know if you'd be okay with that? Not just friendship-wise...but career-wise too, and financially of course."

He pursed his lips, reading her thoughts as well as any decent psychic could have. "Is this about Stronghold?"

Layla rolls her eyes at his typical bluntness. He's not letting her just ease into conversation on her own terms.

But obviously he's on the right track. Lately, living here isn't helping her cope with all these damned reawakened feelings for Will. Especially now that Will himself is considering renting the newer empty cottage plotted between them and the other guys, with Natalie too.

She merely settles on telling him, "It's become weird for me, living here. I feel like I'm losing myself a little bit, Warren. And it doesn't make this any less awkward to think that she'll probably end up wearing my ring. Metaphorically, speaking."

"Wait." Warren's brow shot up. "What's this now?"

Biting her lip, Layla's continues, "Uh, I never told you this before...I actually never told _anyone_ about this before, but, when Will and I were dating the second time around time around after high school, I was looking for a pen and paper one day in his desk drawer and I happened to find a wedding band instead, in its little box and everything. So I assumed Will _was_ planning on proposing to me eventually."

"How can you be positive he bought the ring for you? Are you sure it wasn't a Class Ring or whatever?"

"The jewel on it was a big emerald, Warren, and the words engraved inside the band said: _My lovely Tree of Knowledge and Joy_."

Warren opens his mouth to retort, but only to clamp it shut again, deciding against it.

She again, carries on in his place, "So that's why it hurt worse when we broke up after that. Because I realized I lost more than my childhood sweetheart. Again. I had lost my would-be fiancé, and our future—the wedding, the kids, the dog, fighting over who has to buy the milk each week, compromising over wall fixtures, serving iced tea on hot summer days to our neighbors—the whole American Dream picture." Standing up at this point, she shakes her head at herself, her hands falling to her hips. "And I _know_ I should've said something to you earlier. It guess...it would have made more sense as to why I got so hysterical the other day."

Natalie's the worst part of this situation in fact. She makes Layla despise herself for wanting Will back. Because Natalie's not a _Gwen_. She's charitable, cheerful, and comes off entirely loveable. A perfect Mary-Sue, in Warren's opinion. Natalie's still someone who does deserve a Hero like Will in her life though and she hasn't done anything wrong to drastically offend the group since. Natalie keeps their secret safe and stands completely innocent in this messy equation.

Unfortunately, the main issue was that Layla's heart is never as practical as her mind is whenever William Theodore Stronghold is involved. That troubles Layla to the point that it's killing her; it's wearing her down.

She's craving for a fresh start.

Warren remains soundless, his eyes darting wall from wall, reevaluating things over. So, yeah..._that_ has to be why their household has been just _bombarded_ with blooming red and white roses up till now. Layla was still in mourning. Still at war with herself.

"I'm aware that it sounds kind of morbid. Just...please don't lecture me on this, Warren, about clinging to an idea that came true in the first place. You have to remember that Will has been a major part in my life since we were _five_ years old, and I'm...honestly not sure how to live one without him in it."

Finally, Warren rises from his chair and pulls her to him. Layla's muscles go slack and she lazily wraps her arms under his briefly, sighing into his chest before stepping away.

"So, does that mean you'll help me pack?"

Warren smirks at her attempt to find humor in this conversation. "I guess."

* * *

As soon as Will reaches the end of Warren's long sandy driveway, he hears Warren's old radio system blaring _Nirvana_ loudly from inside the poll shed.

Treading through the doorway, he caught his friend's body bent under the hood of the 90s Cadillac Fleetwood he recently recused from a local junkyard. "Warren?"

"Yeah?" Warren's too busy to look up right that second. "What's up?"

"I tried calling the house last night to see if you wanted to go shoot some pool down at the bar, but you never answered. Where were you?"

"Layla's."

Will evidently found this statement a bit comical because he cracks a dork-ish smile at Warren. "You're there more than you are here these days!"

"She needs help with unpacking and fixing things up, stuff like that."

Warren, truthfully, isn't willing to mention Layla's newest habit of calling him during the night whenever she can't sleep, which is seriously most of the time now. That would just lead to more questions from Will's end. Layla's ridiculous excuse last evening was that her electric blanket got damaged during the move and she wanted him to lay down on her mattress to create the same warming effect before she would crawl back into bed. Needless to say that Warren's going to enable her behavior _only _for so long before he'll tell her to suck it up and learn how to count sheep in her head like everyone else has to.

"...Besides fixing things, how is her new apartment?" Will adds, "I haven't gotten around to see it yet." That's pretty much stating the obvious. Tough Will is straining to keep a decent conversation flowing before he'll just end up standing there awkwardly, simply watching Warren monkey around with car parts.

"It's definitely hippie-friendly," Warren reassures him. "She invested in buying a ground-floor apartment so she'd have her own private courtyard out back. I bet you can just imagine the big garden she already has growing there. The greenest one on the block. The inside's really colorful. Lots of gold, greens and blues and bamboo as Layla likes to have it. She's got Pagan meditation room-thing too and everything."

"Yup. Sounds perfect for her," Will agrees, then he clears his throat, motioning towards the entrance. "...So you wanna grab lunch soon or something?"

Warren turns, bends under the car's hood once more to install the last of his auto gadgets back its right place, then says, "No need. I already got a pizza cookin' in the oven. C'mon."

Inside, Will settles down at the new kitchen table Warren was forced to buy a few days ago since Layla took their antique rustic-looking one with her. He's heard this from Magenta. According to her, she had spent six full hours over here to help them pack Layla's things up. Warren and Layla meanwhile battled for the rest of the communal items they shared...by using a dime. Magenta also mentioned that it was the funniest thing she'd seen them do yet, just because how the two acted while playing the tossing game. And Layla finally insisted that _Magenta_ had to become the official coin-tosser to prevent Warren from cheating again...because apparently he was purposely messing with Layla and always holding up the coin too high for her to see after he'd flip it every time. They were climbing on chairs and arm-slapping each other, wrestling for the coin. Layla even tried to bind Warren down with vines to keep him still long enough to steal the dime away from him so she could hand it over to Magenta.

Other than that table, their cottage doesn't look that drastically different to Will. Although, for Layla being gone...there sure are a lot of roses throughout the adjacent rooms.

Warren must have noticed him staring too, for he grunts out a snappy "What?" back at him.

"Nothing!" Will gestured submissively, "It's just, um...there's a lot of flowers in here, man, for a so-called bachelors pad."

"And?"

Will laughed lightly. "_And_ none of us really pegged you to be a guy born with a green thumb."

"They were grown by Layla, genius. I'm not gonna just let them shrivel up and fall apart on me. That'd make this place look even worse, right?" Warren scoffed, pulling the sizzling pizza pan out of the oven with a bare hand and placed it in Will's hungry reach. "Besides, she'd yell at me for days if I did. She'd tear up and there'd be a whole funeral and shit..."

A look of playful suspicion now etched its way into Will's features too. "...Has that...happened before?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Warren just shook his head at the thought.

Will takes the following silence as some opportunity to branch out a bit more. "Are...you and her okay these days?"

"Me and her?" Warren's own face fell into a new mask of bewilderment. "Yeah. We're fine. Why are you asking that?"

"I've just noticed that Layla's acting a little funny around us lately, even for Layla. Just wondering if you guys maybe had another go at each other recently...sorry, or whatever...or is there something I should know about? I feel bad when I'm out of the loop, you know, 'cause then I say things that make me look like a complete idiot."

Warren resorts to glaring at him, thinking clearly as a bell, _Yeah—she might still be in love you—you are a complete idiot_, though those words don't form properly in his mouth, because it's not his secret to share, and he simply ends up shaking his head again.

"Nope. Nothin'."

* * *

For the fourteenth time in the brief two minutes they've actually been there, Warren's pulling at the black tie hugging tightly at his throat.

"Stop that," Layla reprimands him gently as they load themselves into the empty elevator car. She faces him directly in order to readjust the knot for him.

"It feels weird," he growls. "And that cocktail dress of yours is sparkling a whole lot for someone who _doesn't_ want to be noticed by the enemy."

Layla huffs in response, becoming irked, and she smooths the wrinkles out on his shoulders. "Your tie was just a little bit tight," she says mocking him. "It doesn't mean that you look weird in this suit. You're actually very pretty in one."

"Next time we go undercover, we don't go as fake billion-dollar inheritors!" Warren hisses shortly just when the elevator comes to a halt. Its golden doors slide open to reveal the hotel's grand lobby already filled with a glittering flock of expensive-dressed suspects. They walk out together and Warren allows Layla to take his elbow. "Let's just get this over with."

* * *

Layla's mother shows up at the house around noon, beaming at him.

"Hello, Warren."

Warren's not sure why she's _here_, but he switches his courteous streak back on, inviting her inside anyway. She smiles again warmly and compliments on all the flowers he's managed to keep alive straightaway. Fauna, a.k.a. The Wildlife Whisper to some fellow Heroes, is also a hippie-personality type when she is not on official duty. And like Layla, she's the kind of woman that could pull off such a "Flower Power" style and make it work for her—short curly red hair, wise green eyes, always choosing to wear those long patterned dresses with tribal-like jewelry and a knitted cardigan. Fauna's features actually remind Warren a lot of the actress Marcia Cross. In so many ways, this woman is her daughter's mother.

"How is it here without Layla around every day?"

Warren says the first thing that comes to mind, "It's quiet."

Fauna chuckles freely at this. "I can imagine that."

"So...what exactly brings you by?"

"Oh, I'm actually meeting Josie Stronghold at the other house soon. She asked me to come along and help them redecorate Will's place. Plus Will's supposed to watch Natalie's cat, Carmella, for a whole week while she'll be out of town, and apparently he's having some trouble bonding with her. I thought I'd just gave him some insight on what she wants from him."

Warren lets himself smirk at the idea of Will being stuck with a cat that doesn't care for his company. "He's never been that great with pets."

Fauna presses her lips together, shaking her head modestly before she gets back to the point, "No, he hasn't...anyways, I won't keep you any longer. I simply stopped by to drop something off for you real quick. Layla was going to at first, but naturally after I mentioned I was driving over here today anyhow, she just thought I should take it with me." Warren watches Fauna as she tugs out a shoebox-sized package from her multi-colored handbag. "You know how Layla was called to do that side mission in Hawaii for the palm trees and such? Well, on her last day there, she said she happened to find a certain souvenir and it immediately made her think of you."

Warren nods in thanks and takes the gift.

He unwraps it right after Fauna leaves; but it isn't a new pair shoes like he'd guessed it could of been. The thing in the box turns out to be a wooden Tiki-style figurine, carved into the shape of a woman with long flowing hair, wearing a traditional lei and grass skirt.

The note that it comes with has Layla's elegant handwriting on it, reading:

_It's Pele – the Goddess of Fire. _

Rolling his eyes in amusement, Warren moves to set his Pele on top of the mantel.

* * *

Warren startles out of a deep sleep when her ringtone breaks through the darkness. He moans, half-dives off the mattress and fumbles through a pile of used clothes on the floor to find his hyperactive cellphone. Pressing _Talk_, he heaves himself back across the bed, realizing it's well past midnight. "What?"

_"I think you better get over here and build me a barn," _her opening retort is just as dry and cynical as his greeting was.

"Huh?"

_"I've counted up to exactly 1,037 sheep and now my brain is so full of them that it's actually keeping me awake!"_

Expatriated, Warren drapes a hand over his eyes, "Layla," he states hardheartedly, "This has to stop. You need to figure out how to sleep on your own like a normal adult. I'm starting to feel like a teenager who's babysitting a restless infant overtime and I'm stuck wondering when the parents will finally be home again!"

A stuffy silence comes on her end of the line.

Confused, Warren checks his battery life quick. "Hello? You there?"

_"...Sorry,"_ he hears her say, her voice, again comes out very flatly. Her irritable fatigue makes her immune to his insults apparently. _"I was still counting more sheep while you were talking...and now they're multiplying. By threes."_

Warren releases a grumbling steady sigh. Like always. "I'm on my way."

* * *

It's on the eve of Layla's twenty-fifth birthday when it dawns on Warren, that he may have been falling in love with her all along.

He wonders if it might be the little red dress she decided to throw on tonight—or it could be that he observes her flirting with several of the single male party guests throughout the night, probably trying to replace Will, and he's not sure why he doesn't like watching it happen—or it's how she looks at him from across the room as she pours herself more lemonade at the right moment that he looks up as well—or it's just much simpler than all that. Now that she's moved out of the house and their ways of living haven't been the same as they've been for the last couple years, he misses her, and tonight he realizes just how much he's missed her.

_You don't know what you really had until it's gone, and all that jazz and other crap._

Whatever does trigger this feeling that suddenly stabs him from within, and it's here to stay because now he's fully aware of it...and Warren knows he's (ironically) on the quickest route to a heavy heart.

* * *

After a few months of getting settled in permanently once and for all, Layla gathers up the whole gang over for an afternoon to check out her new apartment.

And, in fact, it goes pretty smoothly regardless of Natalie showing up as Will's surprise-plus-one. Magenta, Zach, Ethen, and even Larry and Six-Arms make it a lot more tolerable and they're distract her enough to not dwell on it.

Warren's an hour late and missing out on the fresh baked pastries though. Shocking. But when her phone rings and Layla goes into the empty hallway to answer the call, a gut-feeling tells her that something is off with him today.

"Warren?"

She listens to him mutter his location.

"Wait, you're _where_?"

He mutters it again, this time growing more impatient.

The words finally sink in. "Okay," she says in way that translates to: _Oh Gaia, you have got to be kidding me!_ "...Yeah, alright, fine. I'll be there soon."

Warren continues, asking her for a favor and Layla steals a moment to roll her eyes towards the phone. "No, I won't tell anyone," she adds curtly.

He makes sure of that.

"Yes."

He mumbles, getting the last word in.

"I promise!"

After they hang up and cut the connection, Layla pokes her head around the corner,_ psst_-ing slyly, gaining just Zach and Magenta's attention. "Hey, do you think you guys will be okay here without me for like an hour or so? Warren called and now I have to...pick him up and run a last-minute errand."

Zach and Mag share a pointed look and Zach crosses him arms, flashing her a cocky grin. "Perhaps...only if we can play some kickball in the garden outside."

"Absolutely, sure, fine. Whatever. Go for it." Layla doesn't want to waste her time negotiating her terms over something silly like that. Grabbing her keys, she slips through the front door. "I'll be back."

The designated parking lot isn't that full when she pulls in, but the building's surprisingly chilly as she walks inside because they've got the A.C. cranked all the way down.

Layla looks around the small lobby and struts straight up to the older man in uniform sitting quietly at the front desk, busy (or, not busy at all) reading the Maxville Press Pages.

He raises his head when he noticed her singing in. "Hi...," she says evenly, her eyes skimming over his nametag, "..._Bruce._ Hey, Bruce. I'm here for someone."

He grunts, half-smirking in mild glee. "For the new guy, I'm guessing? The hotheaded one?"

"Yup, that's him alright."

"'Kay, let me take a peak at your I.D. first."

"There's no charges pressed, right?" Layla feels like she has to double check on that after she shows him her regular Civilian lenience.

"No. Not that we know of right now, anyways. Lucky for him, we were just supposed to hold him until he made his call."

"Well, that's good at least."

Bruce pushes away from the desk and stands up. "Right this way, Sweetheart."

As soon as Bruce rounds the first corner of cages, calling out a sarcastic remark to Warren and Layla follows closely behind, Warren drags himself from the bench inside as though they're suddenly back at Sky High and he's just been called down to participate in yet another Save the Citizen match with a classmate he doesn't like. His only other cellmate seems to be avoiding him out of fear.

They meet just inches apart. Warren gazes back at her through the iron bars, his overall expression's pretty much blank, albeit his eyes shine with a certain sadness and embarrassment. Regardless, this is the first time in several years she's ever seen Warren trying to pull off the famous puppy-dog pout.

Layla turns to Bruce, nodding. "I'll take him."

On their out, Warren does his own version of the Walk of Shame while she casually salutes to Bruce in farewell, who deadpans back, "Anytime, Sweetheart."

Afterwards, the two of them are strolling up the block a ways since Warren apparently doesn't want to go near her car just then. Layla trails behind him nonchalantly, loosely staying in pace with him. She sucks in the side of her cheek, slipping her hands into the back pockets of her shorts, and every now and then she shoots him a provoking look.

Warren hasn't even turned his head yet.

Finally he chooses to stop at the local bar where the boys go to play pool on their weekends off, and just stands there after opening the door for her first. Layla rolls her eyes, stepping through the dimmed threshold.

The bar's current atmosphere is like the Police Station's, calmer at this hour and almost empty apart from the two bikers in the corner sipping on beer between taking occasional strokes across the pool table.

She and Warren weave towards the main bar stools. Warren gestures for two vodka shots for them. The bartender nods, acknowledging him and obeys. Layla accepts the offer with a polite smile when he sets them down in front of them, but she doesn't drink it. Neither does Warren right away.

"You're probably wondering why I called _you_." he says.

"Oh, I know why you called me," Layla's snarky self-confidence peaks and she frankly isn't afraid to flaunt that kind of shrewdness against him, not today. "Out of everyone you know and those who know who your father is...you truly believed only the peppy little open-minded Flower Child would be the one who _might not_ judge you for whatever just happened. Am I close?"

"Close enough."

"So..._are_ you going to tell me what happened?"

"I punched a store manager in the face."

Layla's forehead archs, urging him to go on. "Come again?"

"Look, I was checking out of the supermarket, ready to head out to your place when _he_ decides to come out...this slimeball of a boss. And he practically starts harassing the teenage girl I had for a cashier. She just started the job _yesterday_ apparently, and the guy's already hounding her about her slow progress, making a big scene over nothing. I told him it wasn't a big deal and that I really wasn't in a hurry...and well, one thing led lead to another. He physically reached over and pushed _me_ back first, and of course, I lost it. Security was herding me out the doors in handcuffs before I could think of anything else to try and do and tell my side of the story. God, I hope that guy gets fired..."

Layla visibly softens by the end. Her shoulders sag in pity. "...But, you didn't burn anything in public did you?" she whispers.

Warren downs his shot, scoffing. "Nah, nothing big. Just a baby pine tree."

Her jaw drops in shock and a squeal comes out. "Ahh, Warren! How could you just..."

That's when she sees him snickering, subtly. "I'm kidding."

She lightly throws own her fist into his arm before they stand, passing the bartender his tip. "That's so not funny."

When they walk back to Layla's car and eventually return to her place, everyone is collecting together in the entryway like moths to Warren's inners flame, hearing her reopen the door.

There's a small suspicious glint in Magenta's eyes while Zack questions why it took them so damn long to get back from one simple errand, coming back empty-handed?

"Warren wanted to stop in for a drink instead," Layla joked honestly, and that's all she has to say about it. She sinks down upon the sofa beside Ethan, tossing her keys into the glass bowl set out on the coffee table. Ethan passing her the bowl of chips he's got in his lap.

"You went to the bar?" Will glanced between them, baffled. "You two? Alone?"

Warren shrugged as he follows her in and selects the spot on Layla's vacant side. "Was a rough day today out about in the town."

* * *

The rain pours down hard when they're on the way back at the cottage and Warren's skin is beginning to steam a little, and Layla's hair hangs in dark auburn strings by the time they reach the front door. They basically lunge themselves inside simultaneously, both getting desperate for shelter.

Warren shakes out his hair and wisely opts to go over to the closet to retrieve some blankets. Layla's rather grateful for this.

"The rain will help your grass grow better here now at least," she offers, still shivering under the blanket that is hugged around her.

Warren snorts. "Sure."

Layla sniffs and smiles as they enter the kitchen to sit at the table until she can leave safely and, well...un-wetly. "So, what did you think of the movie Zach made us watch tonight?"

"It was stupid."

Layla breaks out into a giggle, muffled by the wool. "Yeah...it was."

"...Yeah."

Moments of silence pass when Layla sighs in displeasure. _"Gaia, my hands are freezing!"_

Warren holds his tongue and leans forward, merely enclosing her fingers tightly in his, letting a soft wave of warmth radiate from them.

A smile returns to Layla's lips. "Thank you."

* * *

No thanks to a Citizen's lazy, inconsiderate mouth, The Commander—who was dropping off a new batch of captured criminals at the Station—hears the leftover ripple effect of Warren's stupid little _indecent_, and now it's all out in the open and everyone's quite disgruntled about it.

Eyes flicker from Warren back to Steve right after he strolls into the restaurant, instantly demanding an explanation hoping to hear it's not true.

Will face pales. "...You were arrested?"

"...Held, with a warning," Warren responds as calmly as possible. "I was realeased the same day. No one pressed any charges."

"I knew it," says Stronghold, dismayed. He removes his glasses, hangs his head dramatically before he points a finger at Will first, then at Warren. "I _just_ knew it. Like father like son."

"Steve!" Josie fretfully glances around the whole room. "Please, come now. Don't make a scene!"

"Oh, like you haven't thought that same thing once or twice, Josie!"

"Do not put words in my mouth," she snips. "I haven't said anything like that in a while."

Will rolls his eyes. _"Mom!"_

"What? At least I'm telling the truth here."

But Warren's already rising to his feet, ignoring her, and eyeing the Commander in clear betrayal, and that's when Layla's own instincts take over. She stands up too and begins to speak in the most reasonable, discreet tone she has before Warren has the chance to yell out something he may regret later. "It isn't like that, Mister Stonghold. You should _know_ that. You know Warren _better_ than that. We didn't want to make it into a big deal."

"You knew?" all three Strongholds blurt out towards her in perfect unison.

"Well...yeah. I knew."

"Leave her outta this," Warren throws in quickly. "It wasn't her fault. I told her not to say anything and I—"

"Layla, he's right," Steve adds critically, "this shouldn't concern you. And I can't blame you for becoming..._influenced_ by him." Then he mutters something extra to himself about the glorious American Justice System.

Layla's impeccably aware that Steve Stronghold is not her real blood relative or an in-law but she aims him a disbelieving look in which only a daughter could give her (secondary) fatherly figure. "I...I'm not being..." she is at a loss for words right now. Regrettably. Only short stammering squeaks slip out.

And that causes Warren's last grain of patience to go flying out the window. He tosses the napkin clutched in his hand back over their appetizers and storms out of their dining section, going right for the exit.

"Mister Stronghold," Layla restarts, getting a better grip on her previous thought. "Before you guys try to jump to conclusions, why didn't you just _ask_ Warren why he got held in the first place? What you just said to him was plain rude."

"Layla," Josie retorts.

Will pulls on his collar and moves to take her hand. "Layla, maybe we should just drop it for tonight. Right, Dad?"

"No, seriously." Layla insists. "Warren was at the store checking out, and there was this nasty manager who started to bully his new employee in front of everyone! Warren tried to calm him down first and say it wasn't any trouble. That's when the manager started the whole fight and the security guards stepped in. And before he knew it, Warren the one who was shoved in the back of a squad car."

Josie presses her lips together tightly and lowers her gaze. Will's eyes widen, and Steve just clears his throat before he slowly sit down in his chair.

"See?" Layla finished sullenly. "Warren was basically punished for having good intentions, and that manager was let off the hook. And that's the kind of legal system you wanna support?"

The table grew very, very quiet.

"I'm sorry. I should go." She grabbed her purse and straightened out her skirt as she retreats. "Will, call me later if you want."

Will nods, that sweet pathetic frown of his she knows so well falling back into place.

Outside in the wind, Warren's still there leaning against his truck, actually waiting to talk with her. He knew she'd be the first to chase him down.

"You still hungry?" he asks.

Layla nods. They're leaving before their main meals have arrived, after all. "Starving."

"Want Chinese?"

"Yes."

Layla is not really in the mood for French at all. That was Josie's pick.

* * *

The desert is always known to be dry and sunny during the day, surely, but it's that time in the season when everything grows still and cools off after it gets dark...and Layla only really agreed to come on this Villain hideaway-hunt with Warren because he the partner he originally hired earlier on had to bail out at the last minute the day before due to a family emergency and no one else could go with him.

"Are you _sure_ it's out here?" she calls out to Warren's back.

The sun is already setting beyond the dunes, and she can feel the new air settling in around them and starting to cling to her skin. And not having a chance to take a shower yet after the humid weather they had this morning is making Layla progressively short-tempered, exhausted, and a little irritated with Warren who looks perfectly well in comparison, for the heat serves him better rather than it does slow him down.

"Yeah," he says, glancing back at her once. If that.

Layla isn't so convinced anymore. She senses she will regret this later, but then again, what else was there for her to do that day?

Though she just can't seem to shake it off. She wants to leave. She's getting bored and there's still no movement to be seen anywhere.

But Warren quickly turns off the path they're on without warning, and he heads down the slope bedside them making Layla sigh.

Then it all happens in full circle, at full speed:

One moment they're staring at a mound in the earth that didn't appear natural, as if it was previously made from whatever that hidden underneath it...and in that following second, there's a siren going off, alerting the enemy and the battle begins. The whole system (the two-story steel plated dome) rises from the mound, shaking the ground violently under their feet as it gradually moves up.

Soon, there's scarps of metal flying everywhere. Warren aims fire at the very impressive, yet deadly, extendable layer-eye that's shooting red beams at them. Various sand critters start scurrying out of their disturbed burrows at once, but Layla only half-notices the pair of scorpions scampering over the right toe of her boot. She can barely see where Warren's run off to now.

Swiftly, she jolts into a power sprint, dodging each little explosion which are automatically triggered by the pressure of her footsteps—_one, two, three, four_ of them in a row. The gusts of wind blowing around her threaten to throw her off balance. By the fifth and final blast, Layla smartly dives into a combat roll, gaining the right amount of distance much quicker. Panting, and resting on her knees, she raises a bleeding palm towards the lonely plant standing three feet away. It's nothing but naked thorns and twigs really, though it's her only defense within her reach right now. The roots crack their way out to the surface and stretch on towards the dome. They climb along the rounded steel walls and twist around every pole and ladder in between, and then they _pull_, urging the barriers to give way.

The bars of the top terrace groan and fall down from the force and the front windows are smashing in after that, revealing the flames that are devouring the dome from the inside out. Bright strings of fire run along Layla's massive web of vines and the scene looks pretty neat honestly, like it's a picture taken for an action magazine cover, but, Layla knows the story behind this, because she's here and became a part of it, and she doesn't even want to _think_ of how the reporters are going to approach this matter after it's is all done.

_...Villains or no Villains, how many men are dying in there now?_

Warren comes in sliding over the sand to kneel next to her, swallowing and breathing heavily from the workout. His left hand lands on top of hers and gives a light squeeze, silently making sure she's alright and memories of Homecoming at Sky High are suddenly flooding through Layla's mind.

_Wings of vibrant green fabric billow out around her as their surroundings no longer hold steady against the gravity...and they go plummeting down through the air, and even though Will's literally right there with them, Warren's the one who takes her hand during the fall._

* * *

Trevor Watts.

That's the name of Layla's newest beau. He's seamlessly average, a Citizen, although he is a strong advocate for the modernized Green Movement and has a born knack for being a gardener and landscaper—so, it's not surprising why he appeals to Layla in such a way.

Plus, Trevor's nothing like that moron Spencer was in the past; but, Warren Layla hasn't spoken to him much lately before tonight when she invites him over for dinner, and Trevor's there to open the door for him.

For the first full minute after stepping inside her apartment, Warren's privately stunned to hear about the relationship. He merely assumed that Layla has been busy with life, or solo Heroine work, or whatever women do on their own free time.

Well, apparently, she _has_ been busy. Just not with those sort of things.

With Trevor.

And Warren's smart enough to rationalize his unrequited love for Layla is his issue and his alone. He can't pin the blame on Trevor, or Layla for that matter, for not telling him straight away. If Trevor is making her happy and is helping to shed off more layers of William Stronghold from her heart and mind, then he should accept the situation for what it is.

However, beyond his control, the ache is there of course, and it still swells up inside his ribs each time Layla and Trevor share any intimate action while preparing dinner in front of him.

Warren supposes he's lucky to a certain degree, when he doesn't have to worry about feeling so awkward around Trevor anymore, because only one month later, Trevor receives a new job offer out of state, which causes him and Layla to lay their fun time spent together to rest and part ways.

_"I'm sorry," he said simply, staring at the garden ahead, the flowers fully bathed in sunlight._

_She relined further against her wooden lounge chair. "Don't be. It wasn't that serious...and at least this was more a mutual spilt. I didn't even come out of the Hero-closet yet, not really. Trevor...just thought that I was another plain, determined environmentalist like him."_

On the other hand, Warren can see Layla's stumbling back to square one again. And he thinks, maybe, he has the opportunity to come clean with her, to seek closure, or something to that effect.

But, no.

Warren loses his chance to plan out the whole conversation rather quickly, because somehow by sheer chance, Layla rediscovers Skylar next, days later. It's almost as if they're all thrown back five or six years in time, and she and Skylar immediately bond all over again, acting just as friendly towards each other as they did in high school. The Earth needs Air to breathe too, cycling through each other. The pair begin to causally date on the third week after getting reacquainted.

Warren thinks he's doing okay though, considering these circumstances. After all, he's played a significant role in Layla's social life since the Paper Lantern days, and _this_ isn't making him suffer yet. He hasn't been falling to pathetic pieces, and he _hasn't_ wanted to stomp up to Skylar and torch him into a pile of ash for taking Layla out. Unlike any other man that would probably be seething with jealously at this point, pining helplessly from afar, _he's _been uncharacteristically (and wholly, utterly) patient thus far when it comes to Layla (and her happiness). Clearly she has become his exception.

And besides that, maybe it's not that complicated for him. Maybe his individual friendship with Layla is simply enough to hold him over. Maybe it's just _knowing_ that his place in her routine can't be replaced by another is all he needed.

Or, again, so Warren has come to believe.

...For two months later, he gets another pretty girl of his own while out shooting pool with Six-Arms, Ethan, and Will; and the carefree country girl, Hallie Winston, easily falls for his charm during their first attempt of creating small talk near the bar, each waiting on their drinks.

And it's on the night of their fourth official date when the reality hits him harder than ever. He's drops Hallie off in front of her home. He leans in to kiss her goodnight, and while she deepens the kiss, Hallie's long blonde hair is turning a little redder in the shadows of the vehicle and her baby blue eyes seem greener to him and her horseback-riding farmer's tan is looking much paler beneath his hands and more freckled—oh no, wait.

It sinks in all the way.

Warren jerks back from her as if he just got struck by a viper.

On second thought, maybe...he's not doing that okay.

* * *

Layla tips the watering can over her last pot of tall marigolds, sparing a glance in his direction. "You're quiet today."

Warren just blinks up at her from the chair nearby because this observation isn't anything new for them.

She reads his expression effortlessly and adds, "...Well, quieter than _usual,_ I meant. Is something wrong?"

It seems like he's not willing to open his heart to her right then, though, he does open his mouth anyhow. "Haven't you talked to Will recently, Hippie?"

Layla shrugs lightly. "No, not that much. Why?"

"He and Natalie just broke up last night."

And as if Layla's presently acting out some big dramatic scene on stage, she startles and shrieks out a shrill, "_What?"_ and she almost loses her grip of the watering can when she turns back around to face him. She manages to catch it and set it down properly on the table, though a extra drops of water still over the floor as she does so. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"You just said you guys weren't talking that much."

"Yeah, but, come on, Warren!" Layla's shifting into overdrive again and her hands fly up in the air. "He could've at least told me that. He can still talk to me. And I thought they were moving in together!"

"Well, apparently, that's what brought things to a pause. They weren't ready for that sort of commitment yet, and unfortunately just they didn't see that before the boxes started piling up in the house."

Layla calms herself, and she's genuinely looking concerned. "Aren't they getting back together, though?"

"Maybe. They're keeping in mind...you know, they're more like...on hiatus, I guess. Getting some space before deciding yes or no. Natalie's moving in with her cousin and she's not going to see anyone else in the meantime. She likes Will to much not to wait for a while and see what happens."

"Oh, well...," Layla sighs, "...maybe...I should call Will up and invite him over here one of these nights soon. To catch up. He must be feeling horrible!"

"Hippie—" Warren's tone starts off as a stern warning, but it quickly fades into real uneasiness. "—please tell me you're not doing that just so—just so you guys can be all alone and you'll have him right where you want him, and he might be a little vulnerable and open for a little attention, and whatnot..."

Layla jaw sets, offended. She's not the least bit amused by that idea. "Ah. Excuse you."

Warren tries to retraces his tracks back a few paces, nevertheless, it's already out there. "Look, I'm just trying to look out for you, you know that. Don't do anything stupid by—"

"Who do think you are taking to here, Warren Peace? Only a petty, self-involved Villainess with nothing better do with her time could ever scheme up that sort of plan," she reminds him and she can tell her words are cornering him into a tight spot. "If that's really how you've come to view me these days, then you can just leave!"

"I'm sorry, Layla," Warren announces then. And they both know he mainly uses her first name directly when he really, really means for her hear him out. "I'm sorry, okay? I only wanted to make sure this doesn't...ending up hurt you, too. That's all."

"Warren, for your information, I have actually moved on from Will...you know, _romantically_. Truly, I'm fine. Skylar's there for me now if I need him, and besides, I am perfectly capable—"

He stands from the chair, interjecting. "Yes, but seeing him in person again, with none of us there with you guys might be—"

"Let me finish!" Layla scolds, holding up her hand against him and Warren backs down once more. "Let me repeat that you cannot always protect me from the outside world, Warren, and there'll certainly be times when you won't be able to protect me from my own feelings. Sometimes, what is, is just is."

And, right then, it comes out of nowhere...the kiss he gives her.

It's quick, but there's still a certain intense weight to it, as if he has been wanting to do it for a while prior to today, and Layla definitely notices.

* * *

"He did?" Magenta sounded surprised, but not incredibly so. She shifts on the sofa to face Layla directly.

"Yes."

"Well, did you kiss him back?"

"Yes."

"I supposed you two might cross that line eventually. It was _bound_ to happen after Will was out of your reach for good. Sooner and later."

"Gee, thanks."

"And it was good?"

"It was. Overall, it was a very nice kiss."

"Then, I don't get it." Magenta looks straight at her, more perplexed than minutes before. "What...exactly is the problem here?"

"It's weird."

"How it is weird if the kiss was good?"

"It's weird because it's not weird," Layla points out in her own meaningful Layla-ish way. "I mean, how could it _not_ be just a little bit weird...considering how Warren has been living in my friend-zone for so long?"

"I don't know. I guess that's what you need to try and find out."

* * *

Their second kiss happens early one morning shortly after Layla had her one-on-one girl talk with Magenta; the action movie she's watching with Warren ends and the credits are scrolling up the screen, and when Warren walks her to the door, giving Layla her jacket, he leans in. And she lets him.

The third time they kiss, it's much more significant. Warren initiates it like the others before, but Layla's hands slip around his neck to hold him closer.

The fourth time they kiss, Layla closes her eyes and smiles into it, and lilies are blooming instantly all around them; these vines are not threatening though. They snake up across the walls in a sort of delighted, energetic dance, all reacting to her hormones. Once she presses flush against him, his lips sting her for a brief moment and he pulls away, literally sparking.

The fifth is short and sweet, the sixth is slow and sensual.

All the kisses that fall in line overtime mostly take place within the cottage, her garden, or Warren's bedsheets. It's a type of experience girls will wait for their whole lives, because they see it exists in the classic romantic films they watch over and over again. But, _this_ is very real, and to Layla that makes it even better than fiction.

Kissing Will was comfortable for Layla. It was familiar in its own adorable way. He tasted like memories of home. Kissing Spenser, or Trevor, was exciting on a different level. Layla will never deny that she's enjoyed kissing them either. Kissing Skylar, was...fairly addictive in itself. Layla had kissed him a lot when they went out just because she felt like doing it rather than doing it for the sake of gaining an emotional reward from it.

Kissing Warren though, to be blunt, was by far the paramount on her scale. It was the most unpredictable, and even one of the most _frightening _things she has done. Because being together, having this profounder and deeper connection now, they could basically destroy an entire city by simply creating one big forest fire.

She just didn't know it could feel like _that, _to _that_ degree. With Warren, everything was chemical, primal and natural, physical, and spiritual all rolled in to one. North and South.

But if their story truly was a fairytale, then Layla's not the regal princess who the prince will win over...no, she's the common maiden who turns away from the constant bustling of the townspeople instead and boldly runs towards the dreaded woods, towards the grass and moss, its leaves, and its dark branches and the wildflowers and thorns, running right into Nature's secrets, embracing the wild for what it is, welcoming the grinning black wolves with open arms.

Layla has finally, and fully come to understand something her Elemental teacher had once told their class—that Element Types typically—no, he said _always_—they _always_ settle down with other Elemental Types, merely because of how the four elements interlaced with each other. It was instinct. It was inevitable. In the end, Element Types just give up the fight to ignore it and start craving the company of others like them.

She remembers scoffing at that information since she was also the one student who believed that _people_ fell in love with _people_, not their powers, or their elements.

Though, here she is, in awe of his fire.

She watches from the sofa as Warren ignites his fireplace with no more than a swift swish of his hand which shows how far he's really come in his control, how much firepower is really in him, and that's precisely when she realizes that she is not in any place to condemn her teacher's statement now.

_It's not the light we need, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake._

* * *

**Closing quote belongs to Fredrick Douglas. **


End file.
